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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28273401">Dear Whoever, It’s Me Again</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cxmill/pseuds/Cxmill'>Cxmill</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>;~;, Atsumu has a wife and a daughter, Bisexual Miya Atsumu, But it’s not cheating, Depressed Miya Atsumu, F/M, I CAN’T STOP WITH ANGST, I JUST WANT THEM TO BE HAPPY BUT AT THE SAME TIME, Letter, M/M, Miya Atsumu Needs a Hug, OC, POV Miya Atsumu, Past Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu, Pro Volleyball Player Miya Atsumu, Sad Miya Atsumu, ahahah, anyway, ba humbug, i don’t know how to wriTe fluff, jokes on you, kita...you’ll figure it our, lol you thought I’d give yall fluff for Christmas?, merry Christmas as well!, merry fucking whatever</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:48:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,272</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28273401</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cxmill/pseuds/Cxmill</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I had many different ways in which I wished to start this letter; to whom it may concern, dear, to, but I think I shall start it with this.</p><p>Dear Whoever,</p><p>It’s me again.”</p><p> </p><p>Shitty Summary:<br/>Atsumu finds himself writing a letter to someone he hasn’t seen in a long time. He is sitting on a train with his daughter, it’s coming up to Christmas and he decides it’s about time he finally addresses what’s been tearing his heart up.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dear Whoever, It’s Me Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I had many different ways in which I wished to start this letter; to whom it may concern, dear, to, but I think I shall start it with this.</p><p>Dear Whoever,</p><p>It’s me again. Is that enough? I ask myself as I lean against the window of the train to Tokyo. People still whisper hushly, my daughter laughs as an old woman grins and wiggles her fingers and yet my thoughts are only filled with you...they are always filled by you. My bed is far too cold and oh so lonely without you and yet, when I exist between the plane of sleep and awakening I sometimes see your eyes and hear you humming as you did every morning, the sunlight shining through the white curtains you persisted on having, lighting your eyes up, making them look like pools of fresh golden honey, your pupils slits and when I awake it is like being pulled from a warm null ness into a harsh, cold reality. My daughter’s hands are warm against my cold cheek where your hand had lain. But the mattress still holds your shape. Sometimes I trace it when I get a bit too drunk, letting my fingers drift over your shape as if I do it enough times it will be your skin I touch rather than cold fabric. </p><p>Your favourite brand of tea is still stocked in my cupboards, my wife only stares in confusion as I pick up another box of it from the shelves despite hating the taste of it. Sometimes I brew it just to smell you, I imagine you standing there, light glistening against your white locks of hair that fade into black as if it were a paint brush, dipped into black ink to spread across large sheets of paper. I suppose that’s what you were though, you spread your words across the sheet that is known as my heart, marking it with ink with flawless brush strokes but you were not flawless were you? Sometimes when I get back late from training I see you waiting for me in the windows, your words whistle through my crumbling rib cage like wind whistles through the war torn towns that somehow still stand. The first time I saw you in the window I think I started crying, I ended up sleeping outside in fear that if I went in you would disappear. Now I just wave, you wave back, our neighbours must think I’m insane but what can I say? </p><p>Do you remember the days where training was cancelled and it was raining too hard for you to work in the fields? The days where I hadn’t taken my medication and instead sat at my desk, fingers typing away as my creativity tore at its cage made of flesh and bone, yearning to reach out and touch the document itself. You would sit there on the arm chair, legs thrown over one arm rest, your face somehow pressed into the backrest as you sat in what looked like an uncomfortable position but you would still sit there, a book placed over your face and Arthur purred in your lap. Do you remember when you had asked me if I would search for you in our next life? Do you remember my response? “I would search for you day and night, I would not rest until I felt you in my arms again even if I had to fight the gods.”</p><p>You laughed, it sounded like bells, no it sounded like how I would imagine stars sounded like, twinkling, a light in the darkness but how was I supposed to know that the stars we see are most likely already dead.</p><p>I smiled at your laughter but I myself did not laugh as my words were true, I would fight the gods for you, even if it killed me I would never give up my search for you.</p><p>The garden is full of snow now, it’s your favourite season, winter. I’m still celebrating Christmas despite how you always thought it was pointless. You used to complain about it but the presents you would oh so carefully wrap and drag me along for hours on end to find the right one for everybody you knew. I decorated the tree, hanging up dried fruits and meats as my mother taught, I thought I heard the bells jingle today but perhaps I had hit my head a little too hard when I thought I heard your laugh earlier today. I remember how you used to slip into the bath with me, you always complained about how hot the water was and how I took up too much space and yet you would always find a way to fold up on my lap, head resting on my shoulder, your white hair sticking to your face and neck, your golden eyes staring into my own brown ones, your pale skin flushing red with the heat, I remember that...do you? </p><p>I also remember how you would stick your cold feet against my stomach, causing me to yelp, you would always laugh about how I sounded like a fox in mating season...I would grumble but we would always end up tangled together, laughing, your smile simply being enough to satisfy me for hundreds of years. Your laugh alone is something I would flatten empires just to hear again. </p><p>I remember when I first met you. I was a bright eyed first year, dyed hair pushed back with an Alice band due to a bed I had lost. You stood silently, eyes cold but not hardened. You were beautiful with your pink lips and flushed nose, I stared and stared until you suddenly sneezed, I then realised that perhaps the clear, crystal colour in your eyes was not natural but rather tears. You rubbed at your eyes and I could not help but flush redder than a ripe strawberry, you looked like a young fox pup. I handed you a handkerchief, something many of my friends teased both me and my brother about but our mother was persistent in us keeping one on our persons at every second. You frowned a bit at the apparently obvious amusement on my face but you still took it from my hands, your fingers brushed against mine and it was as if my world suddenly got livelier, my senses got sharper and electricity shot up my fingers. Sometimes I wonder if you felt it too. </p><p>I did not get that handkerchief back until six months later when I offered to walk you home because you were worried about getting injured in the snow. You were wearing a beautiful icy blue turtleneck with your school trousers and snow boots. I suppose you thought you could trick me into believing the turtleneck and blazer was enough to keep you warm during that cold winter day where the snow was falling but your silence was not enough as I looked at you too often for me to not notice you shivering. I took off my old british army jacket which you used to tease me mercilessly for and draped it over your shoulders, I did not mind the cold much is what I told you but my home was in the opposite direction. You glared at me for giving you my coat but your frown turned to a grin and you laughed loudly when I stumbled on the ice and subsequently fell over into a pile in the snow although I did not take notice to the throbbing pain in my knees and elbow, I was stupefied by your smile and for a second I genuinely thought you were an angel. I was never truly 100% sure you were of this plane after I saw your smile. </p><p>You however did notice the next day I had been injured badly enough for you to berate me. My knees and right elbow had bloomed a beautiful shade of purplish blue after my fall. I did not mind however, I was too busy relishing in the way your lips twitched up into a small smile when I hugged you tightly, pressing my forehead into your stomach from the bench I sat on. </p><p>On Valentine’s Day you were given a truckload of chocolate, I however knew you did not like chocolate and instead I brought you a home made pastry, a Danish pastry if my memory serves me correctly. I looked up to your face from where I had been staring at the floor and by the gods you winked at me, I felt my heart stop! We escaped the crowds and I ended up finally asking if you liked it, your answer has been my favourite words and no matter how many times I hear them again in my waking and sleeping I’ll never get bored.</p><p>I remember our first date, I took you on a picnic, we were tucked in a secret bank, the summer sun blazing down on us, you paddled in the water, we danced, we ate, you gave me a kiss on the cheek goodbye and I walked you home, you shut the door but not before waving me off with that beautiful smile. I am ashamed to admit I did not shower for a whole week after that.</p><p>I remember when you first met my parents as my partner, the walk over was tense but that quickly went away as soon as my mother set her eyes upon you, she whisked you away to help her cook, <br/>“The ladies need to talk together.”<br/>She teased, she of course knew the truth that you were indeed a man and yet you came back covered in icing and batter, a big smile on your face, cheeks flushed from laughter and a cake cradled in your arms, I still love that smile and told you so through mouthfuls of possibly the worst tasting cake I had ever eaten, I of course did not tell you this but I assumed you figured it out when you came to rub my back as I threw up for about two hours.</p><p>Food poisoning was what the doctor said.</p><p>You laughed. I laughed. I still have that video.</p><p>When you introduced me to your grandmother, I almost cried in anger, she took one look at me, glared at me and told you that you could do better...I apologised for shouting at her eventually after you coaxed me out from under the house, she only laughed and told me she was glad you had found someone who didn’t take shit from no one, I blushed at that, you once again blessed my ears with your laughter. </p><p>When you first moved in I thought that your stuff was ridiculous...I still have it all, including that awful shirt your aunt bought you, the purple one with gold birds on it, you wore it all the time, you loved it! I of course refused to post pictures of the two of us if you wore that shirt, you told your aunt how much I loved it and so she bought me one herself. Now I use yours as a pillow case.</p><p>I remember when we used to lay on the sofa in the library, a small fairy wren nest was in the tree, you had laughed, ever since then you left bird seeds on the window sill even when the farmers would complain about the nest, you loved them. They had the same twinkling laughter as you after all.</p><p>Do you remember when the first snow had fallen, you ran out of the house, pulling on your shoes, still in bed clothes with my trench coat over the top, you launched yourself into the snow and made a snow angel, I reluctantly joined you...we spent all day playing.</p><p>My wife doesn’t know why I cry at night sometimes, she doesn’t understand why I look at the empty bed like it killed my family, she doesn't know why I have an awful pillow case, she doesn’t know why I brew tea every morning because we both hate tea, she doesn’t know why an old woman held me as I sobbed into her shoulder today. My wife doesn’t know why I wave at empty windows, she doesn’t know why I hold a ring that hangs around my neck to my lips whenever I work. She doesn’t know why I don’t let her sit in that arm chair, she doesn’t know why I lay in the snow, spread out like an angel, she doesn’t know why I cry every time a certain fairy wren comes knocking at the library window sill. But I think she may be starting to understand that my habits and rituals are not to be interfered with. </p><p>I suppose you may be asking why I’m writing to you today of all days while I’m riding a train, my daughter in my lap. Well I’m 98% sure I heard your voice just as I was about to leave our house, I felt your arms around me, your lips brushed my ear and you said,<br/>“It’s okay, you can get rid of my clothes, get rid of my tea. Even that little wren will die, it’s time to move on, I’ll be here my dear, it’s time to move on”</p><p>I think for once I’ll listen to you. It’s about time for me to move on...I’ll be okay I think. Well for now at least. I’ll be okay.</p><p> </p><p>Dear my beloved,</p><p>I’ll see you soon.<br/>Yours truly, now and forever,</p><p>- Miya Kita Atsumu</p>
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